Fred and George Meet the Marauders
by madeofawesomeness
Summary: Fred and George go back in time to stop Umbridge from joining the Ministry in order to prevent her tyrannical reign as High Inquisitor. Hilarity ensues. Up for adoption. Fun story, but I lack time. If you're looking for something to pick up, check it out!
1. Chapter 1

Fred and George Meet the Marauders

**A/N: I've already started this story awhile ago (under a different penname), but when I first wrote it, my writing wasn't the most thought out at the time. So, I decided to give the story another go, and actually put some time into it.**

**Also, for the purpose of this story, we'll ignore the fact that Umbridge is a lot older than Harry's parents and pretend that Umbridge is the same age as Lily and the Marauders.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Obviously.**

**Chapter 1:**

Soft footsteps echoed down the hall, meandering their way through the corridor. The Weasley twins—obviously up to their usual rowdy antics—quickly jumped behind the one-eyed witch, hoping to avoid another irritating encounter with the newly established Inquisitorial Squad.

"Ouch," exclaimed Fred, as in his panic, George stomped on his unfortunate twin's big toe. "What was that for?"

"Shut up!" whispered George, "Do you _want _ her to catch us? Hide it!"

"_Hem, hem_."

They gulped in unison. Heads springing up like identical jack-in-the-boxes (minus the creepy clown make-up), they both wore practiced expressions of innocence, not willing to give their newly instated Headmistress reason to expel them before they had the opportunity to avenge Dumbledore's sacking. However, their fears of turned out to be unfounded as they saw the wide grin of the person standing over their hiding place.

"What are you two up to?" asked a certain dark-haired, green-eyed boy.

"How nice to see you, Harry," answered Fred, pointedly ignoring the question.

"Just the fellow we were looking for," added George.

Harry easily recognized the mischievous glint present in the twin's eyes, and wasn't at all fooled by their naïve façade. He had more than enough experience—five years—with Fred and George to know they were planning something big. Normally, the twins never even attempted to hide a prank, unless it was severely immoral or illegal. (Secretly, Harry hoped it was both; he desperately needed something to brighten up his year.)

"Uh-huh," Harry said, with his best imitation of Hermione's know-it-all-smirk plastered on his face. "Then what's that behind your back."

"Oh, are you talking about this little thing?" Fred responded, giving up all previous pretenses. He pulled out a vial (similar to the ones the students used to bottle up their potions at the end of class for Professor Snape to grade) filled with a scarlet liquid that seemed to be glowing. With a closer look, Harry realized it wasn't glowing, merely there were particles of golden sand floating in the potion that reflected the light shining through the window. "This, young Harry, just might be our best—"

"—idea yet. Behold, the Time-Traveling potion," finished George melodramatically.

Now, it was Harry's turn to gulp.

"Please, please tell me you didn't invent—" he couldn't finish; he was simply too overwhelmed.

"We didn't necessarily _invent _it," started Fred.

"We just asked the Room of Requirement for something to transport us 18 years back to the past." George ended.

Harry thought that after his first four and a half years at Hogwarts, he was entirely immune to shock. In that instant he was proven completely and utterly wrong.

"But _why_?"

"We're sick of that old bag," said George, referring, of course to the newly instated, toad-like High Inquisitor.

"I know, we all are. But _why_?"

"I'll try to put this in terms that the average baboon can comprehend, but the above-average Slytherin can't. It's about _time_ we do something to get rid of that hag. Permanently," Fred finished, pleased by his hideously atrocious pun.

"What exactly does this plan entail?" Normally, Harry would try to persuade the twins to avoid expulsion (or tampering in unknown ways with time that could prove disastrous or fatal), but lately, Harry found that Umbridge was an extraordinary exception to every rule.

"Us, going back to her time at Hogwarts, and, well…and, basically, um…" George was apparently trying to find the right words, but Fred was quicker.

"We're going to deteriorate our dear Ministry official's psychological health, hopefully to a point of severe schizophrenia. Or any other mental disease, for that matter. "

"Exactly the words I was looking for. Thanks Fred, and if you don't mind me saying, you are a rather dashing linguist."

"Oh, George, you flatter me," said Fred, pseudo-blushing.

"Think nothing of it! You are after all, extremely handsome. Such a shame that the entire human race can't have our precious DNA."

"Sorry to break up this little love fest," interrupted Harry, "but how exactly is this going to effect our current situation without, you know, killing billions by severing the time line?"

"That, my dear Harry, is the ingenious part, if I do say so myself. By mentally scarring the little vermin—"

"I'm not sure _little_ is an appropriate word," put in George.

"You're right," said Fred, continuing. "By mentally scarring the severely obese vermin we incapacitate her chances of becoming a high-ranking Ministry official."

"No official position…" started George.

"NO UMBRIDGE!" they shouted together, their faces lit up with smug grins.

After some intense mental deliberation, in which Harry deduced that the threats of destroying the entire world by meddling with time would have absolutely no effect on the twins whatsoever, he decided not to bother trying.

"Well, I've got Transfiguration in about three minutes," said Harry, checking his watch and walking away. "But just so it's on the record, I want you to know that I think you two are severely unhinged. Even more insane, I'd say, than myself. And I occasionally get visits from Lord Voldemort in my head."


	2. Chapter 2

Ch

**Chapter 2:**

"It's okay, my pet. I will whip those little miscreants who dare mock us," came the crazy mutterings of Filch from around the corner.

"You better go," Harry warned the twins, "before that git catches you." As he said this, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and over his head.

"Good luck, guys. Please don't destroy the universe." Harry's voice seemed to come from nothingness.

"Well, if the voice of God is telling us to, I guess we shall," said George, winking at the spot where Harry had vanished.

Fred and George's eyes met, and they both gave a slight nod of confirmation. Fred pulled the glass stopper from the vial, drank half and quickly tossed the vial to George, who then threw the rest down his throat.

There was no great light, no rapid-rewind movements, no sun-setting, moon-rising spectacle. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that they had arrived 18 years in the past.

They just found themselves in a familiar corridor—the one they had just left.

"Did it work?" asked George.

"We'll find out soon enough."

They started walking, for lack of a more productive thing to do. Soon enough, they ran into a girl with bright red hair—rival to their own fiery heads. Luckily enough for them, she had a bright, shiny badge pinned on her robes. Headgirl. The twins rolled their eyes in disgust.

"Who the hell are you?" the girl said bluntly.

"Please don't use such profanities with me. A prefect no less! You know, we look to our prefects to set examples for our young, impressionable minds," said Fred, putting an exasperated look on his face.

"I repeat, who the hell are you?"

"Pleased to meet you, too. Your name is…?" inquired George.

"I asked you first." The girl was practically snarling. At the same time, the twins noticed that there was something familiar about her. Something they couldn't place.

"Fine. If you must know, I am Fred. This is George." said George, pointing to himself, then to his brother Fred.

"No, _I'm_ Fred. _That_ is George." said Fred.

"No, _I'm_ Fred. _That_ is George." said George.

The girl had an obvious look of confusion on her face, but not for one second did she let the twins faze her. She had spent way too much time in the presence of the Marauders to let this get to her.

"I don't care which of you is which, but you will explain to me this instant what you are doing here in Hogwarts and why I have never seen you before."

"Fine. We're transfers. From…" Fred looked at his brother for assistance.

"From Beauxbatons. Ze Madame Maxine zent uz." finished George, pathetically imitating a French accent.

"We need to see Dumbledore," said Fred, interrupting George, to try to salvage their overall dignity.

"Fine. I'll take you there," the girl said tartly, with much distaste, like she'd rather tackle the giant squid than escort the Weasley brothers anywhere. She briskly turned on her heel, and marched down the hall, her head held high. The boys followed like a couple of lame hippogriffs.

"Now, I think we asked you a question. Who are you?" said Fred, once again. "You look familiar."

"My name is Lily. Lily Evans."

The twins exchange looks of sudden comprehension. They knew they had recognized her. The eyes. She had Harry's eyes. Or rather, Harry had _her_ eyes.

Lily Evans strode up to the familiar gargoyle the twins knew led to the headmasters office, saying "Ice Mice!" in a way that somehow managed to come out as dignified and regal. The Weasleys were deeply impressed. The trio climbed the staircase, knocked on the door, and an ever familiar voice said, "Come in."

"Hey, Professor it's me Fred Weasley." Fred shot Dumbledore what he hoped was a meaningful glance.

"Oh, yes. Please excuse us, Ms. Evans. Thank you for escorting these students to my office. 5 points for Gryffindor."

Lily left and the twins were alone with their favorite headmaster of all time—not that they knew any of the others, apart from old Phineas.

"Now, Mr. and Mr. Weasley, I believe you owe me an explanation." Dumbledore's eyes brightened behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Umm…we're kind of…sort of…from the future." Fred said, trying to gauge the professor's reaction.

"Oh." Dumbledore looked surprised, and that was saying something.

"You probably know our parents, Molly and Arthur Weasley."

"Ah, yes. Molly had quite the temper didn't she?" Dumbledore said fondly, reminiscing. He even let out a chuckle as the twins winced.

"Well, let's get down to business. You're seventh years, I'm guessing. Or am I incorrect?"

Fred and George scoffed. Dumbledore? Incorrect? Bah!

"Are you ever wrong?" George asked.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well, I'm sure you are already familiar with the multiple guidelines of Time Travel. " Looking at their faces, he decided it would be best to elaborate. "The first and foremost rule is to not inform anyone that you are from the future. This one has already been broken. Also, there is to be no meddling with the fates of people's past selves. Realize that their fates are decided from the moment they are born and there is no changing that. Now the third guideline…"

Fred and George left Dumbledore's office after their rather predictable Sorting (with Dumbledore's warnings of time-meddlings and offerings of lemon drops) and headed to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"My, my, you're looking as portly as ever," Fred mumbled so only George could hear.

"Password?"

"Hippogriff."

The portrait slid over to reveal the Gryffindor Common Room. It looked as though nothing had changed. The fire was just as bright and the chairs were just as fluffy as ever. Fred and George, however, didn't dawdle and ran straight up to their dormitory.

Swinging open the door, Fred asked, "How's it hanging?" to the group of four boys. The twins instantly recognized them. The one on the left was obviously Remus Lupin, their (ex?)-DADA teacher. To the right was another familiar face, though this one was much livelier than when they had seen it last. Sirius Black. Right next to Sirius, was someone who looked exactly like Harry, James Potter. Their eyes narrowed at the last boy they saw—the evil, conniving, traitor himself, Peter Pettigrew.

"Who the hell are you?" asked James Potter. Boy, had they been asked that question one too many times that day.

"I'm Fred and this is George. We're transfers from Beauxbatons." Throughout his introduction, the Weasleys were still glaring viciously at Peter (who was quite beside himself with fear.)

"Well, I'm Sirius, that's James, and over there's Remus, and this little guy—" Sirius patted Peter's hair fondly, as if he was a beloved pet dog (or rat) "—is Peter."

"Pleased to meet…" George's voice faded off. He had just spotted a badge on James's robes. Identical to Lily's except for one letter (a B). A badge that they had seen being obsessively polished by their older brother. A Headboy's badge.

"Uh-oh Fred, I spot a little obstacle to our plans," said George in a tone that could be taken as teasing or aggressive, thinking of all their previous Headboys and their anti-pranking political stance. "We're sharing the dorm with the Head."

Fred wasn't as worried about James being in the way of their diabolical plans; he simply didn't know if they could live down the shame.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm officially giving up this story for adoption. Frankly, I had a lot planned, but I now have absolutely no time to complete it. If someone is interested, just PM me. If you're interested but lack ideas, I can give you some, but if you want to take it in your own direction, that's cool too (as long as said direction is approved, the story is still, after all, important to me.)**


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